You Could Be Happy
by Lass Cherrie
Summary: It's difficult being away from the one you love. Especially if you're in another country. But it's even worse if you never had the chance to tell them how you feel. Girl wishes she hadn't left. Boy wishes he hadn't let her go... R/I


**Jan 17, 2012.**

Hi, reader.

This is the third and final in the Terrible Trilogy - the three TMM song-fics I wrote way back when. This one was my favourite, though revisiting it now I realise I was so very floral and so very dramatic. Haha. Realistically, this piece could have been told in half as many words as it was. But I still love it, and I still remember how I felt when I wrote it, so it left a strong imprint.

Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I do not (and did not) own Tokyo Mew Mew, or 'You Could Be Happy' by Snow Patrol.

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**You Could Be Happy**

Written: June 10, 2007.

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_You could be happy and I won't know _

He sat at the table, his body seemingly sagging… lifeless... wondering where she was; what she was doing. He was like a doll. No reason to smile, speak or even breathe, could come to him. His hands dropped beside him, useless. A sad frown had fixed itself upon his face, however unwanted. The café was cold and quiet when it was closed. Where his best friend, and partner was, Shirogane Ryou had no idea.

_But you weren't happy the day I watched you go_

He let himself drift into his memories. Her face the day she told them she was leaving. Her last day at the café… in Japan. Her last day… with him. In his life. The four other girls were silent as she walked out, never to return again. She only looked over her shoulder once. He would never forget the expression on her face.

Then he was at the airport. _She _was at the airport. She was leaving. She stood in the line at the gate lounge, about to board the aeroplane. Aoyama Masaya smiled lovingly down at her, and she smiled back, somewhat reluctantly.

_And all the things that I wished I had not said_

How he wished he'd spent the time he'd had with her more wisely. How he wished he had at least once told her how beautiful she was. How kind she was. What a big heart she had. How he admired her. But he hadn't. He'd kept up his cruel, unkind, taunting act… right up until the last minute. She'd dropped her ticket.

"Baka!" he'd called out. "Can't you do _anything _right?"

And she'd looked at him, with such pain in her eyes. Like she knew. She _knew _how he felt about her, and yet he'd still been cruel. He instantly regretted saying it. But he would never have the chance to apologise. Never.

_Are played on lips 'till it's madness in my head_

The words rang out in his mind, stinging him. Burning him. He was paying the price for his unkindness. Justice had a cruel irony. He'd jeered at her the entire short time he'd known her; not once showing a shred of kindness. And now, when he needed her the most, when he wanted to make things right, she was unreachable. Untouchable. It was like she'd never existed…like she was a fictional memory he'd created…

_Is it too late to remind you how we were?_

She sat on the plush sofa, silently. She had nothing to say. What could she say? There was no one to talk to. She was in a country whose language she could not speak. How she wished she was home… with him… No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get him out of her head. His blonde hair… those vivid blue-green eyes, as unfathomable and deep as the wild ocean… She missed him. She wondered how he was, where he was, what he was doing…

_But not our last days of silence, screaming blur_

And yet, when she'd heard the news… he hadn't even cared. Well, it was hard to tell. If he did care about her he'd hidden it well. She'd looked around the quiet café; at the shocked expressions on her friends' faces. She was leaving. She was leaving, and she was never returning. She was going to London… to England… with Aoyama Masaya. And he didn't even care. It was like any sort of relationship between them had never existed. The moment she'd told them of her predicament, any warmth between them was tarnished. Not that there had been much there to start with…

_Can't you do anything right?_

His last words… Famous last words… As was expected, the last words she had ever heard from Shirogane Ryou had been jeering. Snide. It had hurt. His words had pierced her heart. She'd gotten on the plane without a backward glance.

_Most of what I remember makes me sure_

Ryou's foot twitched. He'd been sitting there so long - his body was getting tired of sitting. He let one hand curl into a fist, and uncurl again. There was no point to anything he did. His life had no purpose any more. Since she'd left, it had been meaningless. The Mews disbanded. The café closed. Keiichiro moved his chef skills elsewhere. But Shirogane never moved on. He couldn't. He clung to the memory of how it was… before she left.

_I should have stopped you from walking out the door_

How many times he'd wondered… 'If'. If only he had. If only he hadn't. If he'd said this. If he hadn't said that. If he'd told her how he felt. If he hadn't… well, he already knew what would have happened if he hadn't told her. It already _had_ happened. He hadn't told her he loved her. And she'd left. And his life had crumbled. No, he didn't need to think about what would have happened if he hadn't told her. It was painful enough having to live it, without thinking about it.

If only he had stopped her from getting on that plane.

_You could be happy, I hope you are _

She wondered how he felt now she was out of his life. He probably was glad. She'd only ever been an obvious burden to him. He'd made it clear enough. Every single shift she'd worked at the café, he'd find something she hadn't done right. It was like he _looked _for faults. Like he lived to point out how imperfect she was. It had angered her when she was younger. As she grew older, it just tired and saddened her. Yet he never seemed to tire of it. It had seemed he'd really hated her. She hoped whatever he was doing, he was enjoying it. She hoped it was worthwhile, seeing the Mew Project was finished. He was probably out travelling, or inheriting large amounts of money, or dating girls who simply adored him…

_You made me happier than I'd been by far_

And though he'd hated her, she'd loved him. She hadn't been able to deny the truth. As she'd grown older, more mature, and more conscientious, she'd felt her love for him blossoming, no matter how she'd tried to stop it. Every time she looked at his face, she smiled inside. It was like he was her sun. Her big, blonde sun, with endlessly emotional eyes, as vast as the periwinkle blue sky. Since she'd left Japan she'd been cold. Not just emotionally cold. Physically cold. Her fingers were like icicles, all the time. She didn't like England's weather. It was too cold. So was their sun. The sun in Japan was warmer. Shirogane was warmer… She wished she'd told him. But he'd never have listened.

_Somehow everything I own smells of you _

Her presence was everywhere he went. Everywhere he turned he discovered something else that reminded him of her. Wild strawberries growing in the park. A cat had taken to sitting on the café doorstep… but only when he was there. A girl walked past, wearing the same perfume she had. The flavour of the month at all the ice cream stores just happened to be _strawberry. _He'd found the bell she used to wear around her neck, sitting presently on his table, just that morning. Where it had come from, he had no idea.

_And for the tiniest moment it's all not true_

And he always expected to turn around and see her standing there. Looking guilty, like she'd just accidentally overheard something she shouldn't have. Or walked into his room, without knocking, and stumbled upon him shirtless. That had happened one too many times. He expected to hear her merry laugh, her high pitched squeal; her annoying, yet cute, whine. But he wouldn't. The thought drove him mad. He expected to find her somewhere, but however hopeful he was, he knew he never would actually see her. Or hear her. Or smell her perfume. Or taste the strawberry of her lips.

_Do the things that you always wanted to _

Maybe he had found another team of Mews? Maybe he and Keiichiro had another café…somewhere else in Tokyo… maybe they weren't in Tokyo at all. Maybe he was on some crazy adventure; fighting a new race of aliens… Maybe Kisshu had returned with a new breed of Chimera Anima. She raised the hem of her skirt to stare wistfully at the pink mark on her thigh. The Mew mark. Those were the days. She doubted there would be any aliens in Britain. It was too proper.

_Without me there to hold you back, don't think, just do_

Wherever he was, she hoped he wasn't thinking about her. Where would that get him? She wondered if he ever thought of her. Did he think fondly of her, like all his memories of her were good ones? She wished she could think fondly of him. But she couldn't. If only she'd stayed. They could have spent more time together. She could have _known _him. The real him. But it was too late, now. She had boarded that plane with Aoyama. She'd left her life in Japan for this life… She hoped he was moving on with his life… wherever it was taking him.

_More than anything I want to see you go_

How she wished she could walk away from Aoyama. From the path that had led her to follow him, all the way to England. He'd wanted to study, at Oxford. But he hadn't wanted to leave her behind. He hadn't bothered to ask whether she wanted to stay. She had. She would have given anything not to go. She wished… she wished she could leave. She wished she could turn back time. And go home. To Shirogane.

_Take a glorious bite out of the whole world _

Wherever she was, she would be sparkling. She always sparkled. She had a way of affecting everyone around her with her infectious optimism. He wondered if the people in England appreciated her radiance as much as her friends had in Japan. If only he could see her again. Just once. To tell her how he felt. If only he could erase this mundane chapter of his life, and preserve that time when she'd been in it. But, it was too late. Once again, Shirogane Ryou had let something he valued slip through his fingers. He had a knack of doing that. If he ever saw her again, he would grab her, hold her tight, and never let her go.

He sighed and stood from the chair, walking slowly upstairs to his room. Shutting the door behind him, he didn't even turn the light on, instead walking straight over to the window, and looking up at the black, velvet sky. It was a crystal clear night. Several scattered stars twinkled merrily. The moon was big, round, silver-white. Pearly and mysterious. He let his gaze linger dreamily, drinking in its cool wisdom.

Far, far away, on the other side of the world, the sun began to rise. She moved from the sofa, going to the window and gently dragging back a curtain. The sky was tinged golden-orange, mocking her grey mood. Suddenly, the sun burst up from behind the jagged horizon. Like a huge, golden orb, it glowed piercingly, reflected in the chocolate brown pools of her eyes. Then it continued its journey into the sky, and the golden magic moment ended, abruptly. She let the curtain fall, her happiness replaced by the constant loneliness that raked her heart, and retreated to the protection of the apartment.

He moved away from the window, no longer inspired by the mysterious moon, and sat on the edge of his bed. He was numb to the cold that penetrated his skin. He couldn't feel it. He felt nothing. Since she had left he had lost the ability to feel any emotions… except bitter sadness.

He would never forget how that felt.


End file.
